


The Tempest

by EmmaFoxglove



Series: Mornings At Delaford [1]
Category: Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Love, Married Life, Married Sex, Morning After, Morning Sex, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaFoxglove/pseuds/EmmaFoxglove
Summary: Marianne's first morning as Mrs. Brandon.
Relationships: Colonel Brandon/Marianne Dashwood
Series: Mornings At Delaford [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661869
Comments: 7
Kudos: 108





	The Tempest

Thunder rumbled against the window panes while raindrops streaked the thin glass like tears. The chamber had grown chill during the night, but beneath the blankets the lovers were warm. 

The storm had woken Marianne early that morning, causing her to tremble in that way storms often cause grown ups to shudder like children. But the arm that crept around her waist quieted her, and the words murmured into her hair soothed her back into dreams. 

The next time she woke, it was from the soft kisses that tingled the tender skin at the nape of her neck. She groaned sleepily. The room she was in was unfamiliar, larger than her own bedroom at the cottage. The bed was larger too, and she was not alone in it. 

“Good morning,” she said, slowly turning to face the man behind her. 

Colonel Brandon kissed her, his hand tenderly framing her face, his fingers catching in her wayward curls. “Good morning.” 

“Did you sleep well?” 

“Not particularly.” He smiled. “Someone kept stealing the covers.” 

Marianne blushed and apologized but the Colonel only chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. Marianne could feel it against her side. “You look lovely in the morning,” he told her. 

Marianne smiled. “You look lovely every moment of the day,” she replied, turning so that she could be in his arms. He wrapped them tightly around her. Marianne smiled to herself as she snuggled against him, amazed by how well she fit against his body. 

“I cannot believe I am here,” she said against his chest. “I cannot believe that I am your wife. It is much too good. I am still dreaming.” 

“Did you dream all of last night as well? I marvel at your imagination.” 

Marianne blushed even while she laughed and raised herself up on her elbow so that she could look down on him. “Never doubt my imagination, sir,” she whispered before leaning close and pressing her lips against his. 

Another clap of thunder shook the chamber and raised gooseflesh on her arms. Marianne shuddered. 

“There now,” said her new husband, rubbing his hand along her arm. “Don’t be frightened. The storm cannot reach you here.” 

She smiled. “I am not afraid.” She sat upright, bringing the blanket with her to cover her chest. She looked toward the window, where the weak light caught in the raindrops rolling down the pane. Beyond was an endless bank of storm clouds, angry, blue-grey beasts that lumbered through the sky. “Oh,” she whispered, looking at them. “Is there anything more glorious than a tempest? Can’t you feel the energy of it in the air? The insurmountable power of Nature being unleashed upon the world?” 

“You look as if you’d like to go dance in it,” he said. He did not sound as if he disapproved. 

Marianne looked back at him. Her expression lost a bit of its wistfulness, replaced by something that made the Colonel’s heart race. “Not today,” she said, placing a hand on his chest before slowly descending toward him. Her dark eyes became fixed on his own, and Brandon had the sudden sense of being caught in a trap. He could not look away from her. She leaned forward until her face met his, her lips barely brushing his own. “I can think of other ways to take part in Nature this morning.” 

Later, as Brandon gazed at his wife, her hair loose and streaming around her shoulders, breasts and belly illuminated by white flashes of lightning and listened to her cries, half-drowned by the booming thunder, he could have sworn that he was being ridden by Nature herself.


End file.
